Four AM
by violence4
Summary: Ultra loves four a.m. ... and Neon. U/N friendship and romance, mild-ish slash and nudity. Rated to be safe.


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northernbullet will probably kill me for writing something that isn't "Bliss", but I can't help it. I saw RiD last night - best night of my life!! - and my head is full of electro girls and only electro girls.

**So forgive my lustful descriptions, lol.**

**Also, I did say I'd do another UNfic (Ultra/Neon fic), so I thought now was a good time to do it!**

**Disclaimer: Boosh characters belong to Julian Barratt and Noel Fielding (who was also there last night, and a lovely man he was too, but not as lovely as the ladies. Sorry Noel.) Ultra and Neon are played by my two lady loves, Sue Denim and Dee Plume.**

**Dedicated to Ceni Vonir, because she loves Ultra and Neon too, and because she hasn't been around much recently and I miss her and her writing. I hope you enjoy this, hun.**

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**Four A.M.**

Ultra always thinks four a.m. is a funny time: not quite night time, but not early enough to be morning. That confusion is partly why she likes it. That, and because four a.m. is their time: hers and Neon's. The time when the shows and the after-show parties are over, before they have finally fallen asleep; when they are recovering from the drink and the drugs, washing away yet another night, letting their heartbeats slow down. Sometimes they make love during these times, slowly – a relief, Ultra thinks, not to have to be violent. Sometimes they don't.

She scoops water from her bath up in her hands and lets it pour over her knees, enjoying the feeling of it cleaning her skin.

She looks out of the window, down the small empty streets. She deliberately left the blinds open so she could see the city while she was bathing. It's been raining hard most of the night, but now it's gradually stopping, so the drops fall as though they, too, are tired after painting the town red. They fall like low-down bass notes, slow, deliberate and fatigued. They are lit up in the orange glow around each street light, dripping down onto the saturated city streets. The sky is still dark, but just starting to go grey rather than black. Across the street, a shop with pink and green lights outside casts patterns across the pavements and into the sky, through the window, so that the bath and Ultra both glow.

Ultra loves these times the best. She finds the view, with its vague hopelessness, very poetic, very inspiring, like an extra shot of vodka. It fills her up with a desire to be alive, while she can.

Under the ripples on the surface of the bath, she can see her pale, thin body, looking white and pure. So deceptively pure. There is a stain on one of her legs, which she wipes away. She runs her hands over her hips and rests her fingers on her stomach.

Ultra always used to think she was too thin. She was delicate, but she didn't want to be. She wanted to be like – well, like Neon: small, furious. Perhaps that is why she liked Neon so much so quickly, because she was the way Ultra thought she should be. But then Neon said that Ultra reminded her of a snow flake sometimes, when she was quiet. She'd said it this special time, when they were in bed – but only to curl up together because the hotel was so cheap it didn't have heating, and it was snowing outside. And Neon had said that Ultra was a bit like a snow flake, because she was pale and fragile – to which, of course, Ultra instantly replied, "I'm not fucking fragile!"

"You can be," said Neon, "Or you look it, I guess. But you know when you get snow blown all in your face and it really hurts? Snow doesn't have to be fragile."

Ultra decided that she didn't mind being tall and thin anymore, if Neon was going to say things like that.

The door creaks, and Neon herself enters.

They always share a room when they tour – it makes sense, after all, as they are both girls. Ultra doesn't really care whether other people think they're together or not. They're not really either, anyway – they're lovers and best friends at the same time. As always, they can't be labelled.

They're close enough for Ultra not to mind Neon walking in on her in the bath. Neon knows Ultra won't mind.

Neon has taken a bit of something tonight. Her eyes are still a bit unfocused, but she's steadier on her feet now than she was when they got back to the hotel. She's smoking a cigarette and her tights are hanging down off one leg.

"Hello, doll face," says Ultra – a pet name that Neon has warned her must never, ever be used when there is anyone else around. But there's no danger of that: public Neon, crazy Neon, violent Neon, wouldn't suit that nickname anyway. It's only sweet, sleepy, silently mad Neon – four a.m. Neon – who does.

Neon does look like a doll. Even with her eye make-up faded and a bit of rouge smeared under her lower lip. Her skin is flawless, her eyes a bit glassy (probably because of the drugs, but that doesn't matter), her hair is dark and lustrous even when it's full of sweat. She looks like a doll that's falling to pieces, in a very beautiful way. Her height, which is normally unnoticeable because of her energy, is suddenly evident.

Neon smiles tiredly and pads across the room, the leg of her tights trailing behind her lazily. She comes to sit on the edge of the bath. She watches as Ultra runs water over her shoulders and breasts.

"Pervert," says Ultra fondly.

Neon puts her hand in the water, pauses for a moment, and then flicks it at her.

Ultra shakes her head – "I'm already wet, aren't I?" – and washes one arm.

Neon watches, head on one side.

"It was good tonight, wasn't it?" she says finally, taking a drag of her cigarette. The smoke rushes seductively out of her mouth, leaving the scent in the air.

"Yeah." Ultra washes the other arm.

Neon carries on watching.

"You're lookin' good at the moment, Ultra."

Ultra raises her eyebrows – but at the same time, she lifts one slender leg teasingly out of the water. Neon is a bit too exhausted and a bit too sleepy to get that predatory look she sometimes does when she's aroused, but Ultra can tell from her face that she likes it.

She props her foot on Neon's lap and goes back to washing her arm.

"You're gettin' me skirt wet," Neon says, after a moment.

"So? S'not like you're goin' out again."

"How do you know?" Neon lifts one hand and strokes Ultra's foot. "I might decide to. I might pull up me tights and go out dancing..." She runs her fingers down the skin. "You're tense," she announces. She stubs out her cigarette on the wall, leaving a burn alongside all the other stains already there, and takes Ultra's foot in both hands and rubs the bridge, relieving the pressure. Ultra purrs slightly and Neon smiles and pulls one of her toes gently.

"Shall we go out dancing?" Ultra says.

Neon pauses, still rubbing her foot. Her teeth play on her lower lip. Then she shakes her head. "No... you need to save your feet."

Ultra smiles, shifting slightly with pleasure as Neon strokes her foot again, helping the muscles relax. Her leg is getting a bit cold as the water dries but she doesn't mind. "You just want to stay here with me," she says.

"Of course I do," Neon replies, voice suddenly low, looking right at Ultra and making her shier a little. Then she bows her head again, almost hastily, and goes back to rubbing her foot.

They sit in silence for a moment, Neon concentrating on the massage, and Ultra smiling and watching her. She is getting slightly aroused, but not desperately – just a warm, hazy stirring that's nice and comfortable, and more happiness than lust.

"Gimme your other foot," Neon says, and Ultra does – and purrs again as Neon sets to work. She looks out of the window. A lorry rumbles past, going anywhere, nowhere. There might be a person standing under one of the street lights, looking up at the falling rain, alone. Ultra likes the feeling of loneliness – but she does need Neon. She could spend the rest of her life feeling lonely, as long as Neon was also there so they could be lonely together.

"If you didn't wear those silly heels, I wouldn't have to do this," Neon says after a while.

Ultra laughs lightly, turning back to her. "You just don't like it cos it makes you look short."

"Oi!" Neon splashes her again. "I am not short."

"You are short," Ultra says.

Neon bares her teeth, but she isn't going to get violent and Ultra knows it. She's not in the mood. Neon never really gets that violent with Ultra, anyway; it's only for appearances. She gets violent with everyone else, of course, but not Ultra. Not really.

"Well," Neon says, after a minute, kneading Ultra's foot, "It makes us a kind of double act. You're the tall one, I'm the short one. Weren't there two comedians or something where one was tall and one was short?"

"I dunno," Ultra says. "There was Laurel and Hardy – one was fat and one was thin."

"Oh," says Neon. She pauses again. "Well, you can be the thin one."

"You're not fat!"

"I am compared to you."

"Stop fishing, I know what you're doing. Everyone's fat compared to me. Johnny used to say I made a broom look fat, remember?"

Neon nods, smiling.

"Anyway, you always get more attention than me from blokes..."

"Blokes!" Neon lets go of Ultra's foot to use both hands to splash her, meaning she is more annoyed this time. The water goes in Ultra's face. She has to wipe it out of her eyes, and when she does, her fingers get covered in make-up. She knows it must be smudged.

"Silly bitch," Neon says. "I don't care about blokes."

She does sound a bit annoyed – hurt, maybe, that Ultra might think she cared – but Ultra feels warm because she knows Neon means, in her funny Neon way, that she cares about _her_.

She takes her feet off the edge of the bath and sinks her legs back into the water, enjoying the warmth.

Neon looks out of the window for a few moments, the pink and green light strips lighting up her face in profile so she really is neon coloured. The contours of her face make shadows and highlights, so her cheek is pink, her eye green, her hair even darker-looking than usual.

It's in these moments that Ultra wishes she could look at her friend forever – that time might just stop and she could sit in the soft, sensual water and admire her.

But then Neon turns.

"You want something, babe?"

She isn't angry anymore.

Ultra shrugs her shoulders and looks out of the window too.

"I love the way it looks," she says.

Neon sighs. "It's a shit hole, Ultra."

"Yeah. I know." Ultra rubs her neck, so her shoulders, which have been drying off, get damp again. "But... I don't know. I like the way it's really ugly, like it's so ugly it's beautiful. I like how it's all fallin' to pieces. Don't you think there's something inspiring about it?"

"Dunno," says Neon.

Ultra can feel water running down between her breasts.

"You think too much," says Neon, "But I guess that's kind of why I like you." Her finger touches Ultra's skin and makes her gasp. She looks up at her friend, to see Neon hanging over her, eyes much more in focus suddenly. Neon wipes away the water from Ultra's chest, and they gaze at each other, a heavy, long gaze.

"You want to come in?" Ultra says softly, after a few moments.

Neon shrugs, but then smiles, breaking the spell. "I am a bit dirty..."

"As usual," Ultra says, grinning.

Neon bares her teeth again, but much more sexually this time. She starts undressing.

"Neon, the blind's open!"

"Yeah? You've been sittin' in the bath with it open. If anyone's lookin' they'll have seen you already." Neon pulls her tights off, then her skirt and her t-shirt. Ultra doesn't complain anymore.

Neon removes her underwear and comes over to the bath. Her breasts move slightly as she walks, enticingly. She stands and looks at Ultra. Her entire body is lit up pink and green. She smiles and runs one hand teasingly over the curve of her chest.

"Are you gettin' in or what?" Ultra asks, voice catching slightly.

Neon smiles, pleased – and in another moment she's in the water, sending ripples everywhere. Ultra pulls her legs back to make space and Neon settles by the taps, splashing the water around herself. She is still colourful, somehow, or maybe Ultra is just imaging that.

Neon scoops up water and pours it over her face. The individual drops run over her cheekbones, over her lips, making them so enticing that Ultra kisses her. Neon doesn't really react, but when Ultra draws away she is smiling again.

Ultra scoops up water herself, and pours it over Neon's hair, wetting it.

"What you doing?" Neon asks, as Ultra moves closer to scoop more water.

"You said you were dirty," Ultra says.

"I am," Neon says, ambiguously.

Ultra laughs, puts her arms round Neon and kisses her hair. After a few moments, Neon hugs her back, round the waist, a bit like a child – so Ultra lies back and lets Neon put her head on her chest. Their legs slide against each other. Ultra feels the ends of her hair getting wet in the water. Neon cuddles up to her. They are both more aroused now but they enjoy being together, enjoy the hot feeling of wanting.

"I could stay here forever," says Neon, looking out of the window, one hand lazily stroking Ultra's shoulder.

Ultra kisses her head again.

"Neon?" she says, after a moment.

"Mm?"

"You know what I said about blokes?"

Neon runs one fingers over Ultra's breast. "Yeah?"

"I didn't mean to get to you, doll."

"You didn't," Neon says. "It's just, why would you think I cared about blokes?"

"I didn't – I mean, I kind of more meant, everyone thinks you're the hotter one. Blokes and girls."

Neon laughs, the breath from her mouth tickling Ultra's flesh. She runs one hand down Ultra's side, letting it trail lower and lower. "Since when do we care what other people think?"

"I –"

"Well, we don't, do you? And anyway, I think you're hotter," Neon says. And, after a few minutes, she slips her finger between Ultra's thighs, very gently, with no urgency – almost as though she just wants to see what she will find. She pleasures Ultra, and afterwards Ultra pleasures her, still with no urgency, almost as though it's just movements they happen to be making.

Afterwards, Neon lies back down against Ultra's chest. The bath water is starting to get cold, but Neon's body is hot. Her back, which Ultra can see lying away from her in the water, is still streaked pink and green. Neon colours. It must not be four a.m. anymore. It must be nearly five. Maybe they will fall asleep here, but it doesn't really matter. It wouldn't even matter if they both dropped off, slid under the water and drowned, because they'd be together.

Ultra knows exactly why these are her favourite times.

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**Thanks for reading.**

**violence (exhausted from last night)  
xx**


End file.
